


you were clearly meant for more, than a life lost in the war

by a_simple_space_nerd



Series: so it hurts to say it's hopeless [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Friends become family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post 4.13, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05, SPACE SQUAD, everyone is friends with each other fight me, no one dies so its pretty good for 100 standards tbh, people actually confronting their feelings; a concept, people appreciating Clarke!! finally!!, sad space squad :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_simple_space_nerd/pseuds/a_simple_space_nerd
Summary: It doesn’t feel real. She can’t be gone. She’s saved them so many times, sacrificed so much, tried so hard, and now she’s… not there. She should be with them. It feels so horribly wrong, to be here and safe when she’s—no.(They hear from Clarke once a year, and this is how it happens, but first: first, they mourn.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Glass Animals: "Youth." 
> 
> I haven't actually seen s4 yet due to exams, so this is all purely speculation. 
> 
> let me know what you think! xx

 

They make the landing, just like Raven said: in just under an hour, they manage to get working oxygen flowing throughout the ark, Becca’s ship safely docked and locked into the system. They all gather in one of the community halls when it’s done, by unofficial agreement, and slump over together, still panting from the adrenaline of the past two hours.

 

That’s when it starts to hit them.

 

Monty starts to cry, and then Raven joins in, Harper burrowing her face into Monty’s shoulder. Emori squeezes her eyes shut and leans into Murphy, his arms tightening around her, jaw clenched to supress some emotion he doesn’t want to share. Echo hovers uncertainly, eyes wary as she looks around the steel ship she’s going to have to call home for the indefinite future, roving over her companions like she can’t believe they’re there. Bellamy knows his eyes are red and bleary from the shuttle trip up to the ark, and his hands shake of their own accord, and he wants to go punch things until he bleeds because he worked so _hard_ and now it’s all gone but he can hear Clarke telling him to use his head and—Clarke.

 

Oh, god, Clarke.

 

It doesn’t feel real. She can’t be gone. She’s saved them so many times, sacrificed so much, tried so hard, and now she’s… not there. She should be with them. It feels so horribly wrong, to be here and safe when she’s—no.

 

Monty is still crying, quieter now but sobbing harder, shoulders shaking as he hides his face in his hands. Harper has started to cry too, and she’s thinking about Monroe’s grave evaporating and Jasper’s body disintegrating and Miller buried under Polis and Clarke turned to dust in an instant. Clarke should _be_ here. She should be slumped over next to Bellamy and Raven, sweaty hair falling into her eyes, relaxing only a moment before double and triple-checking the airlocks, setting up places for them to sleep, bandaging their wounds and wiping their tears, and—she should be _here_. Alive. Safe. Triumphant over death yet again, facing the odds like she always does. Always _did_. She always fixed things, always saved them, and Harper felt safer with her but now she’s gone and what are they going to do without her?

 

Bellamy is staring into space, his hands sitting on his knees, palms facing up, a blank, dead look in his eyes. Raven grips one of his hands in her own, and she isn’t sure who she’s reassuring. Her eyes are still dipping slow tears and she knows Clarke would want them to comfort each other, not mourn her, but that’s just the thing, isn’t it. Clarke can’t want anything because she’s dead. It feels so wrong, so unfair, that after everything Clarke had to go through for them, after all she did for them, after everything they said to her—she just kept going, and now she’s gone. Clarke didn’t deserve what she got, Raven knew, despite what she’d said to the blonde, what they all had, what Clarke had done. She deserved something better. She didn’t deserve to die in a wave of fire, alone and abandoned, whether or not she wanted it. It’s all just so _unfair_. (And if Clarke was here she would promise to make it right, promise to fix it, and Raven might hate her for it but she’d believe it. But now Clarke is gone and it’s _so unfair_.)

 

Murphy watches the people around him crumble and quake in their loss and he thinks bitterly that they should have shown her they cared back when it mattered. Then he feels sorry for thinking that. He’s still angry with the others because yeah, he knows they had to go, knows it was the only way he and Emori could survive, knows it was the only way any of them could, but—she’s gone, now, and now is when they choose to care. He knows they loved her, but would it really have been so hard to put aside their hurts for one second and realise she was hurting too, show them they didn’t only hate her? She did a crappy job of being a leader sometimes, sure, but she still did it when no one else would, when no one else knew how, and getting angry with her for the choices she made when she was the only one brave enough to make them wasn’t fair. He wasn’t a saint and he and Clarke weren’t perfect but they understood each other and she listened to him when he lashed out, and she’d sacrificed just as much for him as the rest of her people. They weren’t perfect but they knew each other, and he knows they were friends and he knows she knew that too. They’d both been through so much that they didn’t waste time trying to deny that, just accepted it and moved on. He liked her. He’s going to miss her. He never thanked her.

 

Monty just keeps crying and this time he doesn’t try to stop. He’s lost his mom, he’s lost Jasper, he’s lost—all of them. Of the original group, _Jasper and Finn and Octavia and Clarke and him_ , he’s all that’s left and it is tearing him apart. Octavia hasn’t been Octavia in so long, and now she’s even father beyond his reach. Jasper is dead, and their friendship died long before that and so Monty knows what Clarke was feeling when they all lashed out at her. Finn is—Finn would hate what happened to them all. And Clarke, Clarke saved him _so many_ times, and he knows she cared for him, knows she loved him, and he knows he didn’t say anything overly horrible but he loved her too and he wishes that he’d told her. He’d just been so overwhelmed by everything else, everything he was going through, and she seemed to make everything worse every time she tried to help, which he knows isn’t fair. She saved them more times than he could count and he knows that there are likely plenty of times he doesn’t even know about, and now she’s dead on earth and he’s up in space and she isn’t there with him and he can’t give her hugs or talk to her about his problems or lay drinking games she’ll always win at and get berated when he gets injured for doing something stupid and he can’t do _anything_ with her because she’s _dead_ , and she’s _never coming back_.

 

Emori’s mind is still reeling from everything. She’s felt like she’s been stuck in free fall for days now, everything happening too quickly for her to adjust. Wanheda— Clarke— had always been there, though, and now she is not. Emori is in space for the first time in her life and all she can think about is that she wishes she could have spoken more with the girl. She wishes she could have thanked her, wishes she could have learnt from her, wishes she could have gotten to know the girl behind the Wanheda. She keeps thinking about how Bellamy said it was what she would have wanted and wonders if that’s really true, how anyone could want their family to abandon them to certain death. She hopes Clarke isn’t dead, but she has been in this world for too long to believe that’s possible. The only miracles she’s ever seen were ones Clarke made, and now Clarke is gone and—miracles just don’t happen.

 

Echo has no idea what to do. Clarke is dead and she feels sorry for her but—she’s alive. The people around her are still visibly reeling from Clarke’s death and Echo is too, for different reasons. They’re shocked that Clarke Griffin died. Echo is shocked that the Wanheda even could. She knows what they say about Wanheda, what even King Roan says about her, and she thinks, slowly, that the reason the Wanheda is dead is because her friends doomed her to death, not because she reached an obstacle she couldn’t overcome, and that just feels so wrong that Echo runs a hand through her hair. She doesn’t doubt that Wanheda, that Clarke, would fight her way through anything the world threw at her, which she did, but Echo’s never been a romantic at heart and she knows that death is inescapable, irreversible, even for the mighty Wanheda.

 

Bellamy recognises, distantly, that he’s gone into shock. He can hear Clarke in his head, telling him he needs to get warm and snap out of it, but he banishes her voice from his head with a horrifying ease. He just—he can’t. Octavia is stuck on earth surrounded by grounders who look at her like she’s their leader (but for how _long_ ) and he can’t protect her from anything, and if Clarke was here she’d tell him that Octavia can take care of herself and that they need to focus on staying alive but she’s not here. She’s dead. He wants to believe that she could survive but he’s just—he can’t. Clarke gave him hope but now she’s gone and he’s alone. How—how will he know what to do, now that she’s not here? It suddenly hits him that Clarke is (was) only eighteen. That’s—she barely even got to live a life at all before it was snatched away from her and that thought sends a tear rolling down his cheek, which he doesn’t bother to wipe away. She should be rolling her eyes at the remaining delinquents, tending to wounds, laughing in the sunlight and throwing snowballs at Monty. She should be striking fear into the hearts of her enemies, walking into war councils with her chin up and head held high, she should be angry and flashing her eyes defiantly when someone says something she doesn’t agree with. She should be giggling with Octavia and drawing the flowers and sitting with him around a campfire and she should be _alive_. (He wonders, distantly, why he found it so much easier to ignore Clarke’s age and blame her for things when Octavia was only a little younger.) He doesn’t know how to lead without her, not anymore. He never really did. He doesn’t know how to live without her, how to keep everyone else alive. He misses her like he misses a limb, and he doesn’t know how to go on from this.

 

They end up sleeping all together in the living room, pilfered blankets thrown haphazardly over their bodies and tears on their faces. They don’t talk much.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, they watch the world as it ends. Bellamy finds his own window because he really can’t deal with anyone else right now, but a few minutes after he’s slid down against the wall and is watching the fire consume the planet, Raven comes into the room and presses up against his side, her eyes misty. There’s not a lot of places to hide on the ship, not anymore, so slowly the group trickles in, sitting all together and watching the Earth as it burns. They still don’t talk, hands intertwined and heads on shoulders and eyes wide open.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few weeks, the numbness slowly, slowly, starts to wear off. Raven tinkers with things in the lab, working to make sure nothing can possibly go wrong. Monty and Harper set things up with the algae farm. Echo and Emori explore every inch of the ship, wariness and curiosity guiding their movements as they adjust to life in space. They’re still mourning, missing their friends and family in the bunker, missing Clarke in every step they take, every time they turn a corner half-expecting to see her there. Bellamy gets a jagged gash on his arm from tripping in the lab while carrying equipment for Raven, and they all flinch when Harper and Echo have to struggle through treating it, opting to forego stitches and just wrap it up as tightly as they can, their usual medic leaving a gaping hole in their usual dynamic. They’re all quieter than usual the next day, and Raven starts to find books and files on first aid and makes them all read them, her eyes watery but unflinching.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks after they blasted off into space, while they’re scavenging the ark for anything usable and gathering it all together, Raven finds Monty standing stock still in a cell from the skybox. It’s from the solitary sector, and Raven walks into the cell with a question on her lips and then stumbles to a stop, eyes wide as she looks around. The cell isn’t big, and it’s the same grey as the rest of the ark but it’s covered from top to bottom in charcoal drawings. Raven knows, instinctively, that this is the cell Clarke spent months in. Monty is on his knees in the middle of the room, and Raven stands next to him with a hand on one of his shoulders, and they stay in silence, drinking in the drawings that surround him.

 

They hear some of the others start to call their names, wondering where they are, and Raven knows they should call out but she feels like the spell will be broken if they dare breathe too loud, the charcoal will fly off the walls and the drawings will crumble away, taking this one last piece of Clarke with it.

 

Murphy finds them, snapping “Oh _there_ you are, thanks for answering—” and then he stutters to a stop and takes in the cell, eyes wide, head tilted as he turns on the spot to drink it all in. The others find them quickly after that, irritation fading into awe as they stare at Clarke’s many drawings. There’s animals, and shining lakes, and mountains, and flowers and plants, and a grey sunset, and—Raven’s fingers trail over one of the drawings, tracing the delicate lines without touching them, feelings softer than she has in months, gentle and with a lump in her throat.

 

“Holy shit,” says Murphy eventually, and Harper’s lips quirk into a smile but the wonder is still evident on her face.

 

“Why didn’t we get to see her do this on Earth?” asks Raven, trying for humour but ending up just sounding sad. “I feel cheated.”

 

“There was one time in Mount Weather,” says Harper, not even flinching as she says the name, walking along the walls of the cell, carefully stepping over the drawings on the ground, staring at the ones on the ceiling, above the cells bed.

 

“I wish we’d gotten to see her draw,” whispers Monty. "I wish we'd had longer to get to know her."

 

* * *

 

One of the drawbacks of living in a tin can with six other people is that there isn't much opportunity for secrets.

This means that they all know about the nightmares.

Everyone has them, so it isn't really a _problem_ , per say, but it's uncomfortable for people who've spent so long guarding their vulnerabilities to their chests. They don't usually ask what the dreams are about. They don't really want to know. 

(Raven dreams of Finn, only now Clarke stands by his side, crying tears of blood, and sometimes they just stand in silence and sometimes they yell and scream and Raven wakes up with a name on her lips and she's never sure who's name it is.

Harper dreams of the mountain, like she always has, but sometimes Jasper is there and he locks her onto the table, and sometimes Monty leaves her there alone, or Monty is dying before her, and sometimes Harper is the one dying and she can see Clarke's face from behind the door, screaming and screaming and screaming.

Echo dreams of her people, the ones she's left behind, the ones she's seen die, and sometimes she dreams of the ship crashing or bursting or exploding while she sleeps, and she doesn't dare to fall back to sleep after those dreams.

Monty dreams of his mother, and Jasper, and Zoe, and Clarke, and occasionally he's frozen while they die or while they kill, but usually they're trying to say something to him and he can't hear their words and he's crying and begging but he never hears.

Emori dreams of silent storms, of angry deserts, of wandering for hours and she knows she has to find someone but she never does, of searching for John and watching him take off into the sky or seeing nothing at all and fearing the worst. 

Murphy dreams of lots of things; of Titus as he stumbles into the bathtub behind him with blood rolling down his chin, of a rope tightening around his neck, of Emori with boils on her face, of Clarke as she burns, or Charlotte as she falls, of being floated now or a year ago, and when he wakes he's never sure if he wants comfort or if he wants rejection. 

Bellamy only ever sees Clarke. Octavia he trusts, though he worries, and he knows she's safe, because she has to be, but Clarke- she never says anything unless it's his name, and she always sounds scared or disappointed, and he hates both tones both equally. Sometimes she burns slowly with boils on her face and blood in her eyes, and sometimes she burns forever while he watches as she crumbles away, and sometimes he's too late and he finds her dead, and sometimes she just stands there and cries while he's frozen in place. Once she had a handcuff on her wrist, and he threw up the next morning. Sometimes his dreams are of battles, or of better times in the ark, or of eerie days in camp, but Clarke is always there.)

* * *

 

The algae farm thrives and Monty starts to smile, softer and sadder than he used to. Raven tries to touch her friends as often as she can, leaning into their sides when she’s standing next to them and bumping their hips with her own, because she still remembers how Clarke would pull her into a hug even when Raven was angry with her. She remembers that she didn’t initiate any hugs. Harper reads a lot, watches medical training films and jots down notes. Emori spends an entire day sitting by a window until Murphy finds her, frantic, and then they sit together and Emori stares at her old home pass down below them, burnt out and dry. Echo helps Raven in the lab, after the initial awkwardness and anger and distrust has begun to fade. Bellamy reads, and collects supplies, and explores, and makes sure that they’re all doing okay, with just of paranoia keeping him extra alert to all of their well-being.

 

They watch movies sometimes, or soccer games, with Echo and Emori fascinated by the animated films, and Harper and Raven appoint themselves the official file-openers, going through everyone on the ark’s files to search for unseen movies or documents. They find Jaha’s folders of files and expect politics or letters to Abby, or blueprints of the ark which Raven can use. They don’t expect grainy footage of two little kids.

 

_“So what do you want to be when you grow up, Wells?”_ His voice is gentle, warmer than they’ve ever known it, despite being slightly grainy, and Harper stills next to Raven, bundled together under a blanket on Jaha’s couch. Raven never knew Wells, but she grips Harper’s hand tightly in her own, glancing at Harper to check that she’s okay, and Harper’s eyes are wide.

 

_“Umm,”_ says the little dark-skinned boy, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt, and the girl beside him bounces on her toes, looking to the side of the camera.

 

Jaha chuckles, and the camera zooms in to Well’s face as Jaha’s son thinks. _“I know what Wells is gonna be!”_ The little girl beside Wells stumbles into him, flinging her arms over his shoulders, grinning toothily at the camera, and Jaha shifts the lens so it shows both the kids.

 

_“Is that so?”_

 

_“Yeah!”_ She nods, flyaway braid falling over one shoulder as she grins at Wells. _“He’s gonna be a teacher! Wells is the_ best _at earth skills, everyone knows that.”_ Little Wells grins at his friend, his arm coming up over her shoulder so that she’s got one arm around him and he’s got one around her.

 

Jaha chuckles again, and zooms out slightly. _“And what do_ you _want to be when you grow up, Clarke?”_ The world tunnels with those words. Raven leans forward unconsciously and Harper sucks in a breath as the girls clutch onto this unexpected memento of Clarke.

 

_“She’s gonna be a doctor,”_ Wells says proudly, and Clarke nods, her braid moving with her head movements.

 

_“Why’s that?”_ Jaha’s voice is fond as he films the two kids.

 

_“So I can save lives,”_ Clarke tells him seriously, _“like my mom.”_

_“Clarke’s gonna be the best doctor on the Ark,”_ Wells adds, and as the recording stops.

 

There's silence for a moment and then the next recording starts. It’s of Wells and Clarke again, Clarke on Wells’ back as they share a whispered conversation, Clarke’s loose hair falling over her face and hiding whatever they’re talking about. They look to be around nine years old this time, older than the other film, and Raven leans back against the couch and draws her knees to her chest, Harper leaning heavily against her, curling her knees underneath her.

 

_“What are you two up to?”_ This voice is unfamiliar and Raven tilts her head in confusion. Clarke and Wells look up in unison, innocent expressions somewhat ruined by the slightly mischievous smile Clarke is wearing.

 

_“Nothing, Dad,”_ she says perkily, sliding off of Wells back.

 

Jake Griffin snorts, and Clarke rolls her eyes. _“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the chess competition?”_

 

Clarke’s expression remains the same, but guilt flashed over Wells’ face. _“No,”_ Clarke said empathetically, _“why would you think that?”_ She blinked a few times, linking her arm with Wells.

 

Jake’s smile was evident in his voice when he replied, _“Because half an hour ago you were complaining that Eva Hernandez didn’t think you could beat her, and ever since you two have been plotting?”_

 

Clarke snorted and flapped her hand dismissively. _“Oh please, Dad, as if we’d actually do anything! We’re gonna beat her fair and square.”_ She blushed slightly a moment later. “Not that, you know, you said we’d do anything.”

 

_“Okay, kiddo, what’d you do.”_

 

Clarke grinned, giving up the ruse. _“Nothing bad, promise,”_ she said, and Wells nodded beside her.

 

_“We’re gonna cheat!”_ Clarke glared at him and elbowed him in his side.

 

_“_ No _, we aren’t! We’re gonna make our own rules.”_

 

_“Yeah. Eva always cheats, so we’re just gonna start adding rules as we go, so that she gets trapped by her own tricks.”_ Wells grinned, elbowing Clarke back. _“It was Clarke’s idea.”_

 

Jake snorted again. _“I’ll bet it was. Don’t do anything that could get you guys in trouble, okay?”_

 

Wells and Clarke cheered and high-fived and then blinked innocently back at Jake. _“Of course not, Dad,”_ said Clarke, still smiling, and then the recording cut off.

Harper laughed quietly, half-smile on her lips, and Raven leaned her head on Harper’s as the next recording began to play.

 

Clarke and Wells looked to be older again, and Clarke was adjusting a paper hat on Wells’ head, bouncing on her feet as music played in the background, saying something to him with a smile, and whoever was recording zoomed in closer to the pair.

 

_“It’s Wells’ thirteenth birthday,”_ Jaha said, _“as you can see.”_ He pans over the room, homemade banners with Clarke’s loopy handwriting reading _Happy Birthday Wells!_ accompanied with little illustrations.

 

Clarke comes running over as he says this, dancing a bit, hair falling out of her braid in the front, eyes alight. _“Do you like them?”_ She asks happily, pointing to one of the drawings, a tiny Wells and Clarke sitting in a tree, matching smiles, their likeness captured even then. _“It’s us on earth.”_

 

_“Mm,”_ agrees Jaha, _“very nice.”_ Clarke beams at the praise, and Wells makes his way to her side, leaning one of his elbows on her shoulder with the air of someone who has suddenly grown a great height in a short amount of time and revels in reminding shorter people of this fact. Clarke doesn’t even acknowledge the arm, just grins up at her friend.

 

“ _You planning on visiting earth soon, Clarke?”_ Jaha’s voice is teasing but the knowledge of the future makes the joke fall flat on Raven and Harper’s ears, and they both grimace, even as Wells snorts.

 

Clarke laughs a little bit, rolling her eyes. “Sure,” she agrees lightly, and Wells laughs.

 

_“Maybe you should be the next chancellor,”_ Jaha suggests, _“so you can make that dream a reality.”_

 

Clarke laughs again, flushing a bit. _“No thanks,”_ she denies.

 

_“Clarke’s gonna be a doctor,”_ Wells adds, snagging a piece of bread from the nearby table and chewing on it casually.

 

_“Yeah,”_ Clarke agrees, and smiles apologetically at Jaha. _“Being chancellor means you have to save lives by taking lives,”_ she says the words like she’s repeating them from someone else, _“and I’m not strong enough to do that.”_ She shrugs, moving her shoulder along to the music in the background, _“I’d be a horrible Chancellor, because I would be a horrible leader. I want to save lives, not take them or dictate them.”_

 

Jaha chuckles, taking no offence from her words, and Wells pokes Clarke’s nose. _“Big words coming from the bossiest person I know,”_ he teases, and Clarke sticks her tongue out.

 

There’s one other recording, when Clarke’s older still and Wells is recording, capturing Clarke’e excitement after her first day as a medical intern. Her face glows and her hands wave as she talks, and Wells laughs at her but his voice is soft. _“Sounds like you enjoyed it,”_ he teases, and Clarke grins at him, pushing the camera away with one hand.

 

_“I got to help save someone’s life_ ,” she tells him, eyes shining, _“the surgery was kind of intense but Jackson says I did really well… It was so cool, Wells...”_ Her voice trails off.  _"I can't believe one day I'll able to do that all the time."_

 

* * *

 

Harper tells Monty about the films and he tells Murphy who tells Bellamy who tells Echo who tells Emori and Raven shows them the films and they all smile fondly watching little Clarke cling to Wells and drag him around, smiling easily like they’ve never known her to.

 

“I miss her,” says Monty, when the recordings have finished and they’re all sitting in Jaha’s quarters, squished onto the couch with Echo perched on one of the arms and Murphy and Echo sitting on the floor, against their legs. “And I miss who she used to be.” _Before the world changed her, hardened her, before we broke her, before she broke herself._ They all hear something different, but they all hear the same thing. 

 

Harper, beside him, takes his hand and squeezes. “I don’t think I ever saw her cry,” she says, because she hasn't.

 

“I have,” says Bellamy, and doesn’t add _because I made her_.

 

“I think that the point, though,” Raven pipes up, “she wanted to appear untouchable, because the grounders needed to respect her, and that meant losing her mortality in everyone’s eyes.”

 

Bellamy nods slowly but Murphy says, “It was before that too, though… delinquents can smell weakness.” Emori, beside him, snorts.

 

“It feels so weird to be here without her,” Harper says quietly, and no one contradicts her because they’ve all felt it too.

 

Monty disappears for a second and they all trade uncertain glances but he reappears just as Bellamy is getting up to find him, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, shot glasses in the other. Raven half-heartedly cheers.

 

“Are we getting sad-drunk?” Murphy asks sardonically, “Is that a thing we do now?”

 

Emori elbowed him. “I say bring on the booze,” she announces, reaching for two cups.

 

Monty laughs a bit. “Yeah, Clarke would say that too. Fun fact: she was scarily good at drinking games.” Murphy crows at this revelation, and Raven snickers.

 

Monty’s clearly already had a drink, and he begins to pour the alcohol into outstretched glasses, then he tumbles to the floor and leans against Murphy’s side, so that Murphy’s sandwiched between Emori and Monty. Murphy rolls his eyes but it’s fonder than it would have been once.

 

Raven throws back her cup and winces as the liquid burns her throat, then reaches out and refills her cup. Harper cheers, already somewhat tipsy.

 

“I cannot— _believe_ ,” she says, “that we are _back_ on this _stupid_ ship, you guys.” Monty giggles and bumps one of her socked feet with his head.

 

“This stupid ship is keeping you alive,” Says Raven, slightly offended, and Harper waves her cup at her.

 

“ _You’re_ keeping me alive,” she corrects. “Let me be angry at the ship.” Bellamy snorts into his cup and Echo grins. “Like, listen,” Harper continues, getting into it, “last time I was here, I was locked up in a tiny-ass cell with three other weirdos, waiting to die.” Monty raises his cup in a salute.

 

“What were you locked up for?” Raven asks, curiously, because she’s wondered. She doesn't usually think about it, but yeah: a lot of her fiends, her family, they were criminals. Some of them would have been killed, and Raven would never have shed a tear. 

 

“Assaulting a guard,” Harper says proudly, “Same as Monroe. Or, well, Zoe. She was one of the other weirdos in my tiny-ass cell.” She sighs loudly, reaching out to refill her cup. “I miss her.” Monty’s face crumbles in sympathy and he pats her foot clumsily. “Did you know—did you know that Zoe once just _decked_ this guy at camp after he said something really super gross about Clarke? We weren’t even _friends_ with Clarke, but she just got so annoyed that she like, gets up, and—” She mimes taking someone down with her hands, twisting her face menacingly.

 

Monty’s expression is sad but the alcohol has reduced the amount of sad, which Raven is grateful for. She’s always had a soft spot for Monty… Clarke did too, so she says this, and then gets a few weird looks for her lack of context. “I mean,” Raven adds, “everyone knew it. Hell, _you_ probably knew it,” she directs this part at Monty who looks partially mock-innocent and partially affectionately-sad. “Because I swear to God you’d ask her permission to do something after Bellamy said no, as, like, the spokesperson for weed united.”

 

Monty sputters, pretending to be outraged. “I would _never_ ,” he says dramatically, while Echo repeats _'weed united'_ incredilously, “abuse the friendship I may have shared with our infamously strict leader! _Never_ ,” he adds for emphasis. “Bellamy, do not believe a word she says.”

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t bother; I already knew.”

 

Monty splutters and Raven and Murphy cackle, Harper reaching down to pat Monty consolingly on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, _everyone_ knew,” she offers, and Monty sends her a betrayed look but there's no bite to it. (He likes knowing that his friendship with Clarke wasn't one-sided, wasn't secret. He's almost proud.)

 

“Clarke probably knew too,” Bellamy says, softer, smile in his eyes. “She wanted you guys to stay alive, and that meant staying safe, but she wasn’t—she still wanted you guys to be kids, to have fun, to relax and unwind.” He pauses. “Even if she wouldn’t let herself do that anymore.”

 

“She’d be so annoyed,” Harper sighs, leaning on Emori, “to see us being sad about her. And also wasting alcohol on getting drunk.”

 

Raven shrugs, leans into Echo, who she admits is growing on her, even after the whole Mount Weather thing. (Bygones be bygones, said no delinquent ever.) “Well, I mean,” she shrugs again. “Not like it’s a new thing. Us being sad about her.” Monty tilts his head at her, confused. “We were always sad when she left,” Raven sighs, “but we were always angry when she came back.” This sobers the group up, silence reigning, and Raven almost wishes she hadn’t spoken but then Murphy pipes up.

 

"Being sad-drunk sucks.” They all look to him, somewhat annoyed. He huffs. “beating yourselves up about how you treated Clarke or how she screwed up isn’t going to help anything or anyone. You were all shitty friends at one point or another, so what.” He shrugs. “Clarke left, so what. She still came back, every time, even while you were all being shit, even when everything kept going wrong, so she obviously knew that—" he pauses. "Something kept bringing her back, and it sure as hell wasn’t just _Camp Jaha_.” Monty snorts. “So, I mean, if you want to keep regretting the things you said or the way you acted, fine, but Clarke wouldn’t want that. She knew people screw up, better than most of you.” He throws his cup back and grabs the bottle to refill it. “I, on the other hand, am going to get drunk remembering the time I was getting tortured by this bald dude and Clarke came in and started yelling at him, no hesitation.”

 

Bellamy chokes on a laugh. “ _What_?”

 

Murphy tilts his cup at Bellamy. “Yeah. Called me her friend and everything. It was wild.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Also, I got to witness her sassing the King of Azgeda before any of you, even while she was the process of being traumatised further.” He sighs wistfully, a twinkle in his eyes when he clasps a hand to his heart nostalgically. “I’d forgotten how amusing it was to watch Clarke snap at people twice her height. Truly, inspiring.”

 

Harper and Monty turn in unison to look at Bellamy meaningfully and he holds his hands up. “Hey!”

 

“Just admit it,” Harper teases, “you guys _loved_ to argue.”

 

Bellamy’s mouth drops open. “What? _No_!” Emori snickers, disbelief plain as day. Bellamy holds up a finger and Monty flings his head onto Murphy’s shoulder dramatically.

 

“Oh no,” he whines, “here we go. A Blake Lecture, right on schedule.”

 

Bellamy splutters but then bursts out laughing. “Okay, no, listen—” he holds up a hand again, still laughing. “There was this one time where she’d twisted her ankle, right, so she’s sitting down on the medbay table, and this was way back when we still weren’t sure who to trust so I thought I’d have to get Miller to make sure she didn’t, like, die suddenly because some creep hated her mom or whatever, but just as I’m about to go inside I hear her yelling and then these three guys come slinking out of the tent, hands in their pockets and everything. They were going to steal some of the medical supplies, right, and she just _yells_ them into submission.”

 

“Isn’t that what she did to you, too?” Harper asks mischievously and Raven laughs and laughs.

 

* * *

 

 

They still miss her. They still miss earth, and all the people they’ve lost and left behind. They get drunk again, sometimes to talk about Octavia and Kane and Miller and those in the bunker, once to talk about how badass Clarke could be, once just because they could. Once because they’d been in space for six months and the future seemed so infinite and endless that it was overwhelming.

Clarke probably _would_ hate that they're using alcohol that could be used to clean wounds, but the ark is full of things people left behind on their way down, and the earth is full of things they've left behind on their way up, and they're still delinquents, after everything.

They like to think that Clarke would forgive them for the alcohol anyways. They think Clarke probably would have forgiven them almost anything.

(On the bad days, they wish they could have said the same. On the good days, they remember that she wanted this and that cancels everything else out.) 

* * *

 

It gets better and it gets worse. Murphy plays music over the speaker systems and cooks meals like they’ve not had in months. Monty, Harper, and Emori tend to the farm, and Harper teaches everyone CPR. Echo and Raven make sure everything stays stable and secure and safe, and Bellamy helps everyone where he can. No one touches Clarke’s cell, but sometimes they go and stand in the centre of the room or sit on her bed and just look, because it’s Clarke and it’s Earth. 

Raven finds Clarke’s stash of tiny little charcoal nubs and recruits Harper, Echo, and Emori to help her make a mural, with the names of everyone they’ve lost inscribed in a messy little field of wildflowers. It’s not perfect, but it’s something, and it isn’t closure but it’s—better than it was. (Clarke’s name is in the middle of the centre sunflower, in all capitals and slightly bigger than the others. It’s not just because she was the last they lost, or that they were so indebted to her, or that she was their leader, though it’s all that too, but also because they think she’d like this, to be immortalised in the drawings she loved, on the planet she dreamed of.)

 

There are so many names, but they’re all there, and that’s what matters in the end. No name is forgotten. Everyone matters.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been eight months, and then ten, and then a year,

and that’s when everything

comes

crashing

down.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been exactly a year.

 

* * *

 

It’s been exactly year, and they’re all dancing around that knowledge, expecting to probably get drunk or maybe high later in the evening, (Thanks, Monty,) when the always-open communications link crackles to life, slowly but surely. Raven’s jaw drops open. She’d had it connected to the sound system so that if anything happened everyone would know straight away, and now she’s so glad she did. They’re eating breakfast in a community area, and they exchange glances, not sure what to think. Is it Octavia?

 

(Who else could it be?)

 

That’s when it happens: “—And oh my god, the trees here _glow_.”

 

Murphy swears softly, jolting a bit, dropping his spoon. Emori says “What the hell?” Bellamy goes very pale.

 

“Clarke,” breathes Monty, eyes wide, because that voice is unmistakable.

 

“I mean, some of the ones by the dropship had glowing moss, but here,” her voice trails into a breathy laugh, “they literally _glow_. I think we’re in glowing forest tribe territory, from what I remember… I’m not sure. I can’t see the mountains anymore.” She pauses for a moment, and Harper numbly notices how they’re all frozen in shock, dead silent and not moving. As if any sudden movement will break the spell, will send Clarke’s voice slipping away, will jolt them out of whatever conjoined illusion they’ve fallen into.

 

“Why aren’t we _replying_?” She shouts, the words loud and abrasive in the silence that grips the room, and they all stare at her before jumping up and sprinting to the lab, Raven pressing down the button and saying Clarke’s name again and again, but Clarke doesn’t stop talking.

 

“Anyways. It’s so much nicer than Trikru territory, I wish we’d landed here with the dropship.” She doesn’t sound so haunted, Monty observes distantly. Her voice is lighter.

 

“She can’t hear us,” Bellamy says, admitting what they’ve all realised, and he sounds so broken that Echo steps closer and places a hand on his shoulder, just to let him know that she’s there, as he falls heavily into a nearby chair.

 

“I’m not sure how much further I can go this way, though.” She pauses, and they’re all gripped with fear at what that might imply, but when she continues her voice is still light. “The wave burnt pretty much everything from here onwards. The desert is just—gone. It’s this flat deadland now... And the ocean is kind of iffy, so I’m avoiding that too, because those fish did _not_ look healthy. I’m worried that the plains will be another deadland, but I guess I’ll have to wait and see.” She hums, and Murphy, who’s been paralysed, grips Emori’s hand in his own, face pale.

 

“Anyways. It’s been three-hundred-and-sixty-five days since. You know.” She pauses again, and their hearts all freeze with her. “I’m trying not to think about it, which is stupid.” She sounds a bit more like they remember when she inhales, almost self-depreciating. “I don’t even know if you can hear me. I don’t even know if you’re alive.”

 

She swallows thickly. “I miss you.” Bellamy’s head is in his hands, elbows on his knees, Echo’s knuckles white where they grip his shoulder tightly. Harper and Monty have collapsed into each other, holding each other up, Harper’s hand fisted against her mouth, Monty staring desperately at the radio. Murphy looks shockingly stricken at her words, some part of him wondering if Clarke is including him in that declaration, some part of him wishing he’d never gotten to know Clarke well enough to tell when she was trying not to cry, wishing he’d never known her well enough to care. Emori is holding her boyfriend’s hand in her own, leaning her side against Raven, hoping the contact will ground the other girl, who’s slumped over in the chair, gripping the sides of the steel table with stiff arms, frozen with shock and something else.

 

Clarke’s voice breaks when she tries to talk again but she tries again, stubborn as ever: “Sorry. I’m being stupid.” She doesn’t try to laugh to ease the tension, doesn’t deflect, and that, at least, proves that she’s still there, she’s real. “One year down, four to go, right? I should be happy!” Here she does snort dryly, and it sounds awful and forced and anything but humorous. “I hope you’re all having fun up there. Don’t kill each other, please. And…” she hesitates uncertainly. “If you can hear me… I miss you, I’m sorry, hurry back.”

 

And that’s it.

 

 

“Oh my God,” says Harper, “oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Her voice transitions from numbness to panic, and Monty, white-faced and wide-eyed beside her, looks like he’s close to hyperventilating. Murphy looks like he’s shutting down, every emotion in his face being locked away and hidden, but he looks almost confused as to why. Emori, still beside him, slips her hand out of his and steps closer to Raven, hugging the mechanic close to her chest, and Raven doesn’t fight it, body limp, eyes blank, and Emori knows it’s only a matter of time before the shock fades and anger takes it’s place. Echo has her hands on Bellamy’s face, letting his hands fall to his knees, concern in her features that she doesn’t try to hide, and Bellamy wants to stay like this forever but: Clarke. Head, not heart.

 

“Harper,” he croaks, and then clears his throat and tries again, stumbling to his feet, Echo watching him with worry in the turn of her mouth, “Harper, hey, it’s okay.”

 

He grips her arms and turns him towards her, ignoring her repeated “oh my Gods” and tucking her into his chest, reaching out for Monty with his free arm and squeezing his shoulder until Monty manages to look up. “It’s okay,” he repeats, and he can see the way Monty wars with this, sees the way Monty finally nods jerkily.

 

Monty is so _tired_ of being told it’s okay. It’s not okay. It never has been. He’s just so _tired_ , and he’s so _sad_ and he doesn’t know what to _think_ because he’s survived by putting the dead behind him and refusing to look back but _Clarke isn’t dead_. _Clarke isn’t dead_ , and he put her behind him and tried not to think about her and now _she’s not dead_ and he didn’t _move on_ , he _abandoned_ her.

 

Murphy can see Bellamy putting aside his own bleeding heart to help the rest of them and he feels anger well up inside himself even as he glows with an unacknowledged fondness for the man he’s had to spend a year in close quarters with. Because—because they hadn’t moved on, not entirely, but they _could have_. They’d always have her memory, of course they would, but she was gone. She was gone and now she’s not, and the months they knew her would have faded into memories to be treasured over the next five years, but now they’re all feeling every loss all over again. He’s so glad she’s alive, he is, but—they could have moved on, but now if anything happens to her, they never will. The hurt won’t ever fade away, not while they are in the sky and she is on the ground and all they can do is watch helplessly.

 

And Raven, Raven feels like she’s floating out in space, so far away from everything around her, so far away from the noise and the tears and the hysteria, looking down on the charred earth below her and thinking that maybe if she squints she’ll see Clarke’s fire, and—Clarke. _Clarke_. The tether on her mind tightens and pulls her back into her body and her eyes fly open. “Clarke,” she says under her breath, pulling out of Emori’s hold. “Clarke,” she reminds herself, fiddling with the radio, not daring to disconnect any wires in case they lose her again. “Clarke,” she swears when none of the stations bring her back. Clarke could get her side of the radio working and she’s _hopeless_ with tech, and Raven is the youngest zero-g mechanic on the ark in fifty-two years, not that anyone’s counting, so she _has_ to be able to fix this. She _has_ to. She scrubs her cheeks angrily because the time for mourning is over, her grief relearned wiped away with the backs of her hands. Clarke is down there and she is _alive_ and she is _alone_ and Raven can’t let her keep thinking that they might be dead because she’s Clarke! She’s—she was her best friend, once, and Raven knows her. She can’t let her lose hope. She _has_ to fix this. She _has_ to.

 

* * *

 

They slip into slumber next to the radio, huddled into each other, arms wrapped around waists tightly enough that even in their dreams, they do not let go, they do not lose each other. Raven stays up all night, breathing Spanish and Portuguese and exhaling shaky would-be sobs, cursing her numb fingers. Bellamy jolts back into awareness every time his eyes slip closed, watching Raven as she leans over the radio and keeping his breath steady and even.

 

Raven waits for herself to fix the radio, waits for it to work, and Bellamy waits for Raven. And Clarke doesn’t radio again. They wait three days in the same room before allowing themselves to wander off, check on the algae (“still gross,” mutters Harper,) set up a blanket pile to avoid freezing, (“hell yeah,” cheers Murphy half-heartedly, “sleepin’ in style, y’all,”) and touching Raven when she looks like she might give up, slapping her back or braiding her hair or squeezing her shoulder.

 

“Where are you, Clarke?” Raven whispers, late at night when the others have gone still and silent. “Where did you go? Why won’t you come back? Why can’t I fix this?”

 

* * *

 

Raven breaks two weeks after Clarke’s First Contact. Emori finds her sobbing in the radio room and she exhales as she slides to the floor to put her arms around Raven, letting her cry into her shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut and burrowing her face into Raven’s hair.

 

“It’s _one_ thing,” Raven sobs, “it’s just this _one thing_ and I can’t even do it. Clarke is _alone_ and she _is counting on me_ and why can’t I _fix this_? I can’t _do it_.”

 

Emori hums into Raven’s hair. “No, Raven,” she replies, “you have done so much. You’ve done enough. It’s okay.”

 

Raven keeps shaking her head and crying and Emori withdraws to look her in the eyes. “Listen to me,” she says fiercely. “You are Raven kom Skaikru. You have nothing to apologise for. You have done _so much._ You saved Clarke’s life again and again. You saved your people’s lives again and again. You single-handedly got us into space, saved our asses and our lives.”

 

Raven quiets but doubt still shines in her eyes when she replies with “Not Clarke.”

 

“Clarke,” answers Emori, voice steady, “is alive. She is alive, and she helped save us, but you did _just as much_ , Raven. Don’t you _dare_ sell yourself short.” Emori hesitates and then smiles softly, hand gentle on Raven’s face. “If Clarke was here, Raven, she’d tell you the same thing. You’ve done everything you can, and it is more than enough. Clarke will be okay.” Raven stares at her and then lunges forward, wraps her arms around Emori’s waist, and shakes.

Murphy finds them there like that in the morning, smirking as he leans against the doorframe, eyes gentle and unguarded. “Morning,” he drawls, “which is it, by the way. Did you two have a fun night?” He winks, but there’s no bite to his needling.

 

Raven laughs into Emori’s shoulder. “Shut up, Murphy,” she says, “I hate you.”

 

“No, you don’t,” he scoffs. “I brought you algae. You don’t hate me.”

 

“Ooh,” says Emori, making grabby-fingers, accepting the bowl he passes to her with surprising grace considering she’s still on the floor and mostly-intertwined with Raven.

 

Raven rolls her eyes, yawns and stretches her leg in front of her as she disentangles herself from Emori slowly, blinking the crust out of her eyes, rubbing a hand over her cheek. “I hate algae,” she retorts, “If you want me to admit I don’t hate you, this is a very bad plan.”

 

Murphy grins and plops down in between the girls, winking again. “Just did, Reyes,” he teases, and Emori rolls her eyes as Raven throws her spoon at him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They relearn how to keep going. It’s different this time, because Clarke isn’t dead but she is gone, and they all have to relearn how to cope with that knowledge. Harper trains with Bellamy and Echo and squeezes Monty’s hand underneath the table as they eat. Monty spends more time in Clarke’s cell, attempts to draw her using old photos on Abby’s desk, and tries to find the balance between forgetting and acceptance. Raven tries to smile more because she thinks that if Clarke can shed some of the weight on her shoulders despite her being all alone, Raven can too. Murphy tries to get to know the people he’s stuck with for the next half-decade, tries to put the past behind him but not too far back, because Clarke sacrificed this for him and he might as well do something with the life she’s given him. Emori does her best to adjust to ark life, reminds the Skaicru youth that space is beautiful and amazing and strange, learns everything she can. 

 

Bellamy helps himself by helping the others. He knows he's always been his best self when he has people to protect, when he has people to _help_. He compliments Monty’s uncertain drawings, pranks Murphy with Emori, reassures Echo of her value, is a friend for Harper, builds trust with Murphy, massages Raven’s back and braids her hair after a long day, lets her rant to him and teases her when she gets too depressing like he used to do to Clarke. Raven is his steady place when the days get too hard, when his worry for the two women he cares for most on earth overwhelms him, when she finds him with bloody fists or tears in his eyes.

 

Echo struggles, because while both she and Emori are grounders, Emori has always been good at blending in, at adapting. Echo, on the other hand, has always been an outsider. She hasn’t forgotten that she was abandoned by her people on earth, that the people she now shares air with (literally) were once her greatest enemy. She does her best to turn over a new leaf, to start over, to grasp the second chance she was given, but—she was at a dark place, before the end of the world. That doesn’t go away in a day, or in a week, or in a few months. (That goes away with teasing the others with Emori in Trigedaslang, and sparring with Harper and teaching her new techniques so she can kick Bellamy’s ass, and finding hiding places in the ark with Murphy, and helping Monty grow food in space, and building things with Raven and teaching her ways to defend herself even without perfect legs. That goes away with Bellamy taking her hand in his and saying _I forgive you_ and _you’re part of our people now, Echo_ and _you don’t have to be alone anymore_.)

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t really get better, but it gets easier. Raven calls Murphy ‘John.’ Harper and Monty are happy and in love and the longer they float in the stars, the lighter their shoulders feel, the quicker their smiles appear. Emori learns every constellation, every myth, and she and Echo listen raptly as Bellamy transports them to times long gone. Raven lets the others help her, even if it’s just with little things and even if it’s mostly unacknowledged.

 

Time passes.

 

They heal. Slowly.

 

* * *

 

Echo shows them her tattoos and Harper plans the ones she wants when they land on the ground. Monty turns seventeen and two nights later he comes to Bellamy and asks to hear more about Clarke, not because he’s forgotten her, but because she was seventeen, too. Murphy trips over a doorway and Harper stitches the gash over his eyebrow with a smile and a stern talking-to.

 

Life, slowly, becomes less of a burden to bear. Clarke is still there, in their minds, but the grief is duller, the ache less pronounced. Octavia is still a wound in Bellamy’s heart, but the others begin to help stitch it up. They miss their friends, Miller and Abby and Jackson and all of them down below, but there are others who need them and they are living with them.

 

It’s not better but it’s not worse, either.

 

* * *

 

 

Two years have come and gone and Murphy sings along to a Jackson Five song in the cafeteria, Emori and Echo discussing some book animatedly, waving their hands, elbows leaning on the table they sit opposite each other from. Harper and Monty slink into the room, the bounce in their steps dulled slightly with the knowledge of what today is: two years since Lift Off, one year since Clarke’s Contact.

 

“Hi, nerds,” Murphy yells from inside the kitchen, and Harper rolls her eyes and heads towards him while Monty slips into the seat beside Echo, listening to her argue with Echo with his hands propping his chin up.

 

Bellamy and Raven appear ten minutes later, both looking gloomy enough that Murphy doesn’t even bother with an innuendo or insult, opting instead to shove algae stew into their hands and steering them towards the central table.

 

They’ve only just started eating, Monty giving his bi-weekly update on the algae, when it happens again.

 

The radio crackles to life, faster than last time, staticy but unmistakable. There’s less than a minute of shocked silence, of _it’s happening again_ , before Harper lets out a choked sob and they’re all leaping to their feet, stumbling over their chairs as they race towards the radio, Raven and Bellamy in the lead, Murphy, Emori, and Echo coming last.

 

“It’s been seven hundred and thirty days,” Clarke begins without preamble, talking steadily. “So there’s one-thousand-and-ninety-five days to go. You guys must be _miserable_ up there.”

 

“She sounds happier,” Monty breathes, wonder in his voice, Harper’s hands in his own, sitting on the floor next to the radio.

 

“Yeah,” Emori agrees softly, and Murphy looks at her with a little smile.

 

“Monty,” Clarke says, and Monty startles, eyes wide, mouth dropping open slightly. “The animals are coming back. We saw a three-headed rabbit today… just like old times, huh?” They can hear the half-smile in her voice and Bellamy lets himself relax a smidge, tense muscles loosening as he soaks in her words, eyes shut, trying to regain control over his heart.

 

Meanwhile, Murphy has stiffened and he sends Emori a confused glance, frowning. “We?” At his observation, they all trade glances and lean forward, desperate to hear what Clarke will say next.

 

“It tasted kind of weird, too, so it’s probably toxic but, you know. We’ve made it this far, right?” Bellamy hides his face in his hands, probably internally crying about Clarke’s reckless, carefree words; and Raven absently waves a hand towards him until she can pat him consoling on the back without looking, eyes fixated on the radio. Harper and Echo are both looking out of the large window in the wall, wondering where Clarke is down there, on the burnt-out orb they used to call home. Murphy frowns uncertainly at Clarke’s second _we_.

 

“We’re in Blue Cliff land right now, I’m pretty sure. The cliffs are still blue, but there isn’t much else. Madi and I are thinking about heading to Shallow Valley next, but we’ll have to see if we can make it through the deadlands. Plus, you know, Polis.” 

 

“Who the hell is Madi?” Murphy, Raven, and Monty speak as one, and Harper shushes them instantly, but she looks just as lost, and maybe a little worried too.

 

“She’s pretty stubborn for a little kid, I can already tell.” Clarke huffs. “You’d love her, Bellamy, all of you would.” Bellamy visibly softens at the sound of his name from her mouth, though he still sits on the edge of his seat, fingers winding together worriedly, eyes gentle but jaw clenched as to keep from replying to her words. “She’s so brave, and she’s so kind, and—she’s also _eavesdropping_. I can see you, silly!” A child’s laughter tinkles through the sound system and Bellamy falls further into his chair, astounded. The others fall silent, the radio and the distant engines’ thrum the only sounds to be heard.

 

“Anyways. I’ve only known her for a few weeks, and my Trigedaslang is kind of rusty, but it’s so nice to talk to someone who can actually talk back.” She snorts self-depreciatingly. “Till next time, ark.”

 

And that’s it. Second Contact. Boom.

 

They sit there for a couple of hours, first in silence, just letting everything Clarke said sink in, then wondering what the hell was going on, and then all bursting out into conversation, saying _how was she talking to us again_ and _thank gods she’s okay_ and _who the hell is Madi_ and _thank gods she’s not alone_ and everything in between.

 

"Guys,” says Raven, sounding tired, and they all quieten and turn to her, braced for whatever she’s going to tell them, “I think I know why this is happening.”

 

“Which ‘this?’” Murphy asks dryly, but he doesn’t sound like he’s making a joke.

 

“All of it.” Raven stares at her hands and Bellamy rests a hand on one of her legs, squeezing lightly, and she looks up again, gaze steely. “It’s—we only hear her once a year because we’re in the exact right position. I don’t know why she can’t hear _us_ , because I was trying again just now, but—it’s once a year because we’re in the perfect position and the radios weren’t designed to span over a planet’s width.”

 

“Raven,” says Echo slowly, “are you saying that Clarke might be radioing every single day, but we can only hear her once a year?”

 

Bellamy’s hand slides off Raven’s knee. Raven nods, lump in her throat, and Bellamy pales further.

 

“I need to—” he mutters abruptly, looking stricken, staggering up and to the door, heading down the hall, the others looking at each other uncertainly, until the sound of vomiting is heard and Raven closes her eyes before pushing herself to her feet, waving off Emori’s hand, stumbling after Bellamy.

 

“Every day,” whispers Harper.

 

“Every day,” echoes Monty, looking sad and sick and something else, almost—he’s not happy, of course not, but—she hasn’t forgotten them. He swipes at his eyes and Murphy sighs and grips his shoulder in one hand, the other around Emori’s waist.

 

“Every day,” repeats Echo, sounding almost bewildered.

 

* * *

 

Another year passes. Monty, Harper, and Murphy binge-watch seven TV series, dragging Emori and Raven along to watch all the Marvel movies they can find. Bellamy writes letters, sometimes, on the bad days, to all the people he’s lost and those he fears of losing. Raven sleeps in his bed with him sometimes, after nightmares, but they’ve only slept with each other once after a particularly awful day, and it was fine but both agree it was just for mutual comfort: “You have a pretty face,” laughs Raven affectionately, “but I don’t really feel like dating it.” Murphy and Emori link fingers and walk rings around the ark, staring out all the windows and sometimes even into Clarke’s cell, at times pretending they’re in the middle of a swaying forest, not stuck in a tin can. Harper catches a bad fever and Monty doesn’t sleep for the four days Echo stays by her side, worry clear.

 

It’s not all good. They fight, sometimes, because they are still criminals and assassins and spies and angry teenagers with too much blood on their hands and too many demons in their minds. Echo screams at Murphy when he makes an insensitive remark about her clan and her long-dead king. Harper and Raven don’t talk for a week after Harper snapped that Raven would have been able to fix the radio were she not screwing Bellamy. Monty and Bellamy take a few days to forgive each other after a huge blow-up fight where they both said horrible, awful things about Mount Weather and Pike and Jasper and everything after and before.

 

They always forgive each other, though. They don’t always agree and sometimes they get angry with each other but—they’re family, now. “Stuck with each other,” teases Murphy to Harper and she shoves his face away but she’s smiling. 

 

* * *

 

 

Year three and they’re all gathered in the communications room, blankets around shoulders and over laps, playing card games in relative quiet, desperately pleading with Clarke to still be there. Still be alive. Still be radioing.

 

“One thousand and ninety-five days after Praimfaya,” Clarke greets, and the cards are lowered to the ground, the group shuffling closer together, linking arms and fingers and heads on shoulders. “And we’re still alive! And on the ground, while you have to suffer on the ark.” She pauses and they try to imagine her grin. “Sucks for you! We’re in Broadleaf right now, and Madi’s asleep.” The fondness in her voice is easy to hear, and if they try hard enough they can almost hear the wind rustling through the leaves and ferns around her as she radios. “I know it never could have happened but I kind of wish I’d gotten a chance to explore before the end of the world. It’s so pretty. And sometimes we pass ruins that look pretty recent. Either way, the green is starting to come back.”

 

And it is, even they’ve been able to see it, tiny specks of green appearing among the black and brown and grey, mostly in the area they came from, where Clarke is.

 

"So. The radiation is probably starting to become less toxic. Hopefully. Raven’s probably got everything planned down to the minute.” She pauses. “You know we’re over half way now?” Another break. “Miss you guys. So much. Feel free to reply,” she adds after a second, and the humour falls flat as the radio falls silent.

 

 

“I can’t wait to meet Madi,” says Murphy, because apparently this his job now. Lighten the mood when everyone else is acting too sad to do it. From would-be murderer to comic relief. He’d laugh but that’d be proving the point. “Clarke ruled the camp with an iron fist at seventeen. She’s gonna be the strictest mom _ever_.”

 

“She could be a big sister instead,” offers Harper, but Raven flaps a hand in dismissal.

 

“Nah. You hear how she talked about Mads? Mom-tone. Trust me, I’m experienced with Griffin moms.” She grins and winks and Harper throws a pillow at her in retaliation.

 

“She doesn’t have to be a _strict_ mom, though,” Monty argues, defending Clarke passionately, leaning over Harper’s shoulder. “She wasn’t that strict with me.”

 

“That’s because she thought you were a tiny baby bird who needed to be sheltered from the big bad world, Mont, we’ve already established this,” Raven says with an eyeroll, and Harper laughs as Monty grins.

 

“Is she not right, though?” He asks, with a pout, and Murphy snorts, Echo giggling beside him.

 

“She could still be a cool mom, though,” Echo says. “Clarke always seemed kind of ride-or-die to me… eating radiated meat and everything? Totally not strict. They’re probably bungee jumping down the Blue Cliffs or something equally as crazy.” Raven chortles and Bellamy snorts.

 

* * *

 

 

Year four and Clarke takes longer to radio than in previous years, which they dirstract themselves from by playing monopoly and threatening to float Murphy if he keeps stealing everyone’s money when they’re not looking, Echo in charge of the bank and blatantly creating rules to trap Bellamy in, while Raven’s building a tiny hotel out of wire and Monty is bemoaning his seventh jail sentence to Harper.

 

Every ten minutes, one of them will look towards the silent radio, swallow a sigh or a nervous movement, and then turn back to the game.

 

“It’s day one thousand four hundred and sixty,” Clarke says, and something in her voice sounds heavier. Bellamy sits up straighter, Raven taking his hand in her own, Harper’s head on his opposite shoulder. “Still here, Bellamy.” Murphy knocks his knee against Bellamy’s and Echo smiles at him. “We’ve decided to head back to Trikru. Or Skaikru. Whichever.” She coughs and the connection cuts out for a minute. “Madi’s still pretty sick. She’s… I don’t know. The bite’s gotten infected.” She sounds tired, but she isn’t crying. Harper is clutching Monty’s hand to her chest and Echo is frowning in concern as Clarke reveals Madi’s injury and subsequent illness. “Figures that goddamn _pauna_ would survive.” She snorts. “My leg’s healing, at least, so hopefully we can be gone within a week or two. We’re somewhere between Delphi and Rockline, so we should be home in a couple months at most, what with my leg and with Madi.” She stops for a long minute. “Home. I don’t—” she breaks off uncertainly. “Home is where the heart is, I guess, so it isn’t really that big of a deal, but… you guys better come down soon, okay? Madi can’t wait to meet you.” She pauses again, but this time it feels less sad, less exhausted, less everything they don’t want to think about Clarke dealing by herself. “I can’t wait to see you all again. Even you, Murphy.” She still sounds like she could use another week of sleep but her voice isn’t as loaded. “Hurry back,” she whispers, and that’s that. Another year gone. Another year to go.

 

“Where are we with the whole _getting back home_ thing, Rae?” asks Harper.

 

Raven frowns and looks away from the other girl, leaning out of Bellamy’s side and twisting her mouth as she looks at something only she can see, lost in her own head as she often is when in the lab. “I’m not sure,” she mutters, and that sounds—no. They’re going to go home. The dread and uncertainty in her voice were just the result of earing Clarke.

 

That must be it.

 

That’s not it. Or, not just it. “What do you mean we can’t get home?” Bellamy asks, and he’s trying to use his head but right now it’s too _hard_ and he’s trying not to yell because everyone hears everything in the ark, and he’s trying not to shake Raven or start crying.

 

“Bell,” Raven says, and she _is_ crying and she is clearly just as frustrated. “We don’t have enough _anything_. We’ll need an extra _year_ at the very, very minimum.”

 

Bellamy runs a shaking hand over his face, again and again, and then he straightens. “We can fix this,” he says, and to anyone else maybe they’d be buoyed or fooled, but Raven has spent the last four years with him and she knows desperation when she sees it.

 

“Not this time,” she says, gaze averted, eyes blurring. “We can still get to earth, bell, just—just not when we want to.”

 

* * *

 

They tell the others three days after she tells Bellamy. Raven doesn’t want this to be like last time. Monty'd already had his suspicions, but he still goes quiet and vanishes for a couple hours after Raven tells them in a subdued tone that they can’t go home, not yet.

 

Murphy takes Emori’s hand and she blinks quickly and then nods firmly. “What do you need us to do?” she asks, and Murphy nods his agreement, and Raven wants to start crying.

 

“We can’t go home?” Echo whispers, looking as broken as she sounds, turning to Bellamy with a half-hidden plea in her gaze. He shakes his head and pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around his middle and then pulls away, excusing herself without a word, eyes on the metal floor.  

 

“I’ll go find Monty,” Harper says, voice rough, avoiding Raven’s eyes, but she grips Bellamy’s forearm with one of her hands, nodding quickly. Raven watches her go and feels like sinking through the floor.

 

Bellamy’s arm drapes itself over her shoulders but she doesn’t relax. “Come on, Reyes,” Bellamy mumbles, “let’s go rewatch the Avengers and get drunk with alcohol we shouldn’t waste.”

 

“They hate me,” Raven says, voice echoing in her ears.

 

Bellamy turns to look at her, eyes angry, and for a second Raven thinks it’s directed at her but no; “No, Raven, _no_. They hate _this_. But don’t think for a second—they’re not even angry at you, Reyes, they’re just upset. This isn’t—this is _not_ your fault.” He grips her shoulders. “You hear me? _This is not your fault_.”

 

Raven nods and hugs him and they do get drunk and watch the Avengers, and that night she wonders if Bellamy wishes he could have also said those same words to someone else, sometime else.

 

* * *

 

“Year five,” says Murphy, and Monty doesn’t look up from his algae, though Harper, beside him, flips Murphy off without a glance.

 

“Don’t be rude, Harper,” Murphy grumbles, slinking into a chair across from Monty. “Watch your profanity. What would Dad say?”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Bellamy snaps from inside the kitchen, and it’s Murphy’s turn to raise a finger in the air.

 

“Grow up, John,” Echo says snidely, carrying two glasses of water, one which she places in front of him despite her words, and he sips from it with an eyeroll.

 

Emori tugs Raven into the cafeteria just as Murphy is thinking of an appropriately inappropriate response, and Raven takes one look at them, hunched over their respective meals, before spinning on her heel and attempting to escape. “No,” Emori chides, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into the chair beside Murphy without much struggle.

 

“Hey, asshole,” he greets cheerily, and Raven glares at him.

 

“Hey, bitch,” she says just as cheerily, and Emori huffs and slides into the chair on the other side of Murphy, barely even waving when Bellamy reappears from the kitchen and pulls out a chair beside Monty.

 

They sit in silence, glaring at each other or at the sky or through the window or down at the floor or in their algae-filled bowls. “This goddamn sucks,” Monty says finally.

 

* * *

 

Hours later and Clarke’s voice fills the air. They’re not in the radio room this time. It feels wrong. Like false hope or some crap. Like they’re disrespecting her in some way.

 

“One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days after Praimfaya and I’m still radioing,” she says, teasing, and Bellamy closes his eyes, back leaning on the window. He doesn’t want to hear this, but at the same time every fibre in his body aches with the need to hear her voice again. “Madi’s going out of her mind,” Clarke continues, affectionate. “She’s climbing the tallest trees she can find. Says she’s gonna be the first one to spot you. She’s so excited to meet you all, especially you, Emori, Echo. She can’t wait to meet other grounders. Then again, she’s also been telling me about what she wants Raven to teach her, so I guess we’ll see.” She breaks off and Harper leans her head on Murphy’s shoulder, Emori and Monty sitting on the arms of the couch they’re perched on, watching a soccer game long lost.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t come straight away, though.” Clarke’s voice is softer. “I know things don’t always go according to plan, trust me.” She snorts self-depreciatingly. “But don’t worry, I won’t blame you.” She hesitates then bursts out; “You guys, please come soon.” She doesn’t sound like she thinks there’s a very high chance of that _not_ happening. The tiny bit of doubt, of fear, is being overshadowed with her confidence, as somehow it always is.

 

Raven sits alone in the radio room until Echo silently pads in, hands brushing Raven’s hair off her neck, placing her hands on Raven’s shoulders. Her threadbare sweater brushes the back of Raven’s neck. “You okay?” says Echo, and Raven shrugs.

 

“God, I just want this to be _over_ ,” Raven says, voice choked.

 

“Me too,” Echo sighs, and they sit together and watch the earth spin beneath them.

 

* * *

 

The months pass. They keep living. Harper and Monty get engaged because they don’t see a reason not to. “Not married,” Harper explains. “We want the ceremony to be on earth. Bellamy’s going to be the officiator. First thing.”

 

“Yes, Harper,” Murphy says, rolling his eyes, “So you’ve told us three times today.”

 

Monty and Emori copy each and every sketch in Clarke’s cell, painstakingly finding paper and binding it all together so that they can have the drawings even down on earth. Bellamy tells them every myth he knows of, and some he makes up on the spot. Echo describes every place she’s been to on earth, down to the last detail, and Monty tells them about the time Jasper got so high he thought they were on earth and everything was just very grey. Bellamy and Raven smash his old home, so that the hole under the ground is exposed for all to see.

 

The next year comes and goes. “It’s been safe for you to come back for a year, Bellamy,” says Clarke, sounding angry and tired and—somehow the hope has gone. She’s still radioing, but the hope is gone. “So. Madi’s not happy that I’m still radioing, so I’m talking to you while she’s asleep. She thinks I need to let you go, that this isn’t healthy, but I don’t know. Doing this has been all that’s kept me going all these years, this and Madi. It feels wrong to give up now.” She breaks off. “Where _are_ you guys?”

 

 Six months more, agonising and normal, time taunting them and yet passing as it always has, and then Raven tells them she’s figured it out, it’s safe, they can do it but they might maybe die, fire in her eyes and ponytail wild.

 

“Let’s go _home_ ,” she says, and they look to her and to each other and then out the window, arms around each other and not touching, clothes clean, dirt-free faces turning towards the planet that took so much from them.

 

“Let’s go home,” Bellamy agrees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, should I continue? Let me know what you think! xx


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